Addiction is a Curse
by Failure Turtle
Summary: When CM Punk is sent by Mr. McMahon to appear at a rehabilitation clinic, he meets a broken soul that can help him get over his own demons. CM PunkxOC
1. Morrison McMahon

**A/N: This is in response to Cara Mascara's request. Ha, I just figured out what "CM" stands for: Cara Mascara. Hehe. This is in El Punkaroonie's POV.**

"You're an asshole, Phil!" Maria screamed at me, throwing her expensive stiletto heel at me. Guess who bought those? Yep, I did.

Seriously, why does she need to call me "Phil?" Yeah, my _birth_ name is Phil Brooks, and that's pretty lame. That sounds like some random dude walking around the streets with long hair and a grizzly beard and…

Oh.

Well, it still doesn't suit me. How many times have I told this woman just to call me "Punk?" I know it's just a part of my ring name, but it sounds much better than "Phil." That reminds me of Dr. Phil and that guy is just weird.

"Why am I an asshole _this_ time, Maria?" I asked as I caught her shoe just before it hit me in the chest. Even if it did hit me, it wouldn't have worked, but getting attacked by expensive footwear being thrown by my girlfriend isn't really a hobby of mine.

What could I have done now? I bet she's going to bitch about the nice little fan encounter we endured this afternoon. I _told_ her that we shouldn't have gone out for lunch. Is she insane? We're not like normal people. We just can't waltz into a Red Lobster and sit down without being bothered.

Imagine it like this. You just got off from a hard day at work. You just want to sit down at your favorite restaurant and have a nice meal, but the instant you get your food, six to ten people are in your face, begging for an autograph or a picture. Damnit, I just want to eat!

"You snapped at those people. How hard is it to scribble your name down or pose for a picture for three seconds?"

But I hate pictures. I really do. Maria knows that. "Maria," here goes my attempt at sweet talking her, "I'm not as pretty and photogenic as you are."

"That's not going to work, Phil."

"_Punk_."

"I don't see why you're so obsessed with being called that name. It's not _your_ name. It's your character. I'm dating _Phil_, not a punk."

"But I _am_ my character. You're not an idiot like your character. I really am my character. You know, straight edge…"

"First off, this straight edge thing is really going too damn far, Phil. And second, now you're criticizing the way I work?"

What? When did I start criticizing the way she works? Chicks are weird. I swear, she better be on her period. Maybe I'll excuse the way she's running her mouth then. Then again…maybe not. This really is going too far.

"Maria, I'm not criticizing you. I'm just--"

"Nope." Damnit, there she goes interrupting again. "I'm done, Phil." She picked up her bag and headed for the door. "I'm going to stay in Ashley's room tonight, okay? I'll come back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow morning before we fly out to Japan. You can consider us over."

Did she just break up with me?

Damn.

* * *

Shit, I'm in trouble.

You see, John Morrison and I were just…exercising our arms. Yeah, that's what I'm going to call it. We were strutting down the arena in Japan before the tri-branded Supershow, doing the Vince McMahon signature strut.

"Punk! I need you in my office now."

Ah, Mr. McMahon. What a guy, really. Once Stephanie gets word of this, I'll probably get fired for making fun of her father. She really has been going on power trip firing rampages lately.

I followed Mr. McMahon to his office. Once we got inside, he motioned for me to sit down across from him at his desk. I have a lot of explaining to do.

"Look, Mr. McMahon, Morrison and I were just--"

"Oh, _that_? That is nothing. Making fun of my power walk is of no importance. It happens all the time."

Wow. Did he really just wave of my shenanigans? Awesome!

"Am I in any other sort of trouble?" What? I had to ask.

"No, not at all. There is no trouble concerning you to be reported of. I just have to inform you of a little appearance that I've scheduled for you."

Great. People. Maria will be thrilled. Wait, I'm not with her anymore.

"Where am I going?"

"Well, Punk, you are aware, I'm sure, that the WWE does do some types of community service. Since you are our straight edge Superstar, being that you don't drink or do drugs, you are the perfect Superstar for this assignment. We are going to be near my hometown of Greenwich, Connecticut, soon. There is a rehabilitation servicing adults ages twenty-one to thirty. I want you to appear and speak on the wonders of a straight edge lifestyle. Do you understand?"

So, I get to talk about myself to other people and stuff like that? Sweet. Oh, I guess I'd be helping people, too. That's cool, I guess. Maria would be happy. I guess I won't snap at these people. I mean, I'd be paid to be there and I'm not going to snap at some people in hospital beds. Then again, I don't have a choice to be there. Mr. McMahon specially ordered this assignment for me, so I'm kind of stuck.

"Of course, Mr. McMahon. I'd love to do this for the company." Wow, that was a total bullshitted reply. That didn't sound like me at all. Oh well, I have to sound like that in front of Vinnie Mac, I mean Mr. McMahon.

"Excellent. It will be two weeks from Saturday at one in the afternoon. You will still be expected to attend the SmackDown and ECW house show later that evening. Are we all clear?"

"Crystal." We shook hands like proper businessmen should, even though only one of us was a proper businessman. Sometimes, I don't think Vince is really a proper businessman. I left the office and went to find John Morrison again. Since we weren't getting in trouble for this, we need to continue. Making fun of the power walk is quite exhilarating.

Now that I think about it, I kind of have a bad feeling about this whole thing.


	2. Phyllis the Fire Breathing Receptionist

**A/N: Ooh, I didn't think this would be that popular. Cara, I think we've got a winner.**

Have you ever been in a situation where you know you're supposed to be there but you really think that you shouldn't be? Or like when you see something so disgusting but you can't turn away?

I'm in one of those lovely predicaments right now.

I know I'm supposed to be at this rehab place. I mean, it's not like Vince told me to _enter_ into rehab and I was going to say no, no, no. Damn you, Santino Marella. Getting that song stuck in my head…

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

So, I realize that I was ordered to be here, you know? That's cool. But I really feel out of place. Rehab was one place I never thought I'd be…for more than one reason. The way I'm feeling is kind of like when someone watches ECW. You know you have to watch it because it's wrestling. Any wrestling is good wrestling, unless it's Kelly Kelly versus Layla. That's what I like to call "the WWE sponsored bathroom break of ECW." But when Big Daddy V comes out, you just think that you shouldn't be watching this junk. That then ties into my second point. You see him storming down to the ring with Matt Striker, and you're disgusted beyond recognition…but you can't turn away. Yeah, his boobs are nasty, but they're like…mesmerizing. I swear, those tattoos are hypnotic because I can't look away, even though his boobs are bigger than Jillian fucking Hall's.

Right…rehab center.

I must look like a real dumbass right now. Hell, I probably look like a druggie to all of these people. The receptionist is giving me shady looks. Maybe I should have shaved. Nope. Too lazy.

"Hello, I'm CM Punk from the WWE," I said, introducing myself to the very receptionist lady that was shifting her eyes around me as if I was John Cena trying to wrestle.

"_You're_ the guest speaker on living a drug free lifestyle?"

Yeah, I guess I should have shaved. "Yeah, I am."

Ah, _now_ she's looking at me…a bit too much. I mean, I know I'm highly attractive, but this is ridiculous. She's like staring at me or something.

"Um…according to our schedule…"

Yeah, she's making that up. She's flipping through her date book right now. She's got that flustered look on her face. Hm, what's her name? Phyllis? That's my grandma's name. Are you kidding me?

"Is there a problem, Phyllis?" Shit, I almost started laughing.

She quick glanced up at me. Ah, back to the darting eyes, are we? I could freak her out and do the same thing, but that probably wouldn't be very appropriate. "No, there's no problem. We just have you going around to the various rooms and visiting some select patients before you talk in front of the whole group."

"Cool beans, Phyllis. Where do I start?"

Phyllis's jaw dropped. Is "cool beans" too new school for her?

"Well…Just go to room 110 to visit our youngest patient, Kenny. And then go to…" She dragged her old decrepit finger down her patient list. "…room 123 with one of our more _angry_ patients, Alana. Are you up for a challenge, Mr. Punk?"

"Always. Thank you, Phyllis."

"No problem, Mr. Punk. The rooms are down the hallway to the left."

I kind of want to do the McMahon strut that John Morrison and I have been perfecting recently, but I don't think that would be very appropriate in this milieu. I found room 110, so I knocked on the door and the person inside told me to come in.

"Holy fuck, you're CM Punk." Again with the staring.

"Yeah. Are you in rehab for swearing?" Maybe that wasn't an appropriate joke, but little Kenny here found it amusing.

"Nah, none of these hags could ever get me to fucking stop swearing." I like this kid.

"What's up, Kenny?" I asked, shaking his hand. "I heard you're the youngest one here."

"Yeah, I'm only 21, but you're never too young to fuck up."

"It happens," I said honestly. I'm not going to admonish this kid for being here. I mean, it's a huge step for him even being here in the first place. "So, are you a wrestling fan? I mean, you must be since you knew who I was."

He pointed up at the television in the upper corner of the room. "It's the only thing I watch. My parents send me a DVD or two every month. And thank god this place has cable, because I'd probably have a bitch fit if I couldn't watch RAW every week."

"Hey, what about ECW?"

"I don't like Chavo."

"Point taken." Damn, I really like this kid. "So, who's your favorite Superstar?"

"Kenny Dykstra," he grinned. I saw that coming. How did I see that coming? This kid could be his twin brother or something.

We sat there for about half an hour talking about wrestling. If I was older, I'd steal this kid from his parents and adopt him. I don't think he'd mind. I told him that I had to go visit some pissed off chick named Alana. His eyes bugged out at me and he just said, "Good luck."

Damn.

So I headed down to room 124, my wrists twitching a bit. They really wanted to do the strut, but I'm too damn nervous now. I'm afraid that I'm going to die.

I knocked on the door, and a woman's voice answered. "What the fuck do you want?" Shit.

"I'm the guy from the WWE that's here today, and--"

"Are you going to come in or do I have to drag you in myself?" Phyllis was right. The bitch is angry.

I went into the room and walked over to the couch where she was sitting and reading a magazine that she still hadn't looked up from yet. I plopped down onto the chair next to the couch and went to introduce myself. "Hi, I'm CM--"

"I know who you are. I'm not an idiot." She finally looked up and squinted at me.

How come the bitchy ones are always fucking gorgeous? She had black hair with some blonde streaks in it and cold gray eyes. She was kind of like a hot Amy Winehouse…sort of. She also had her lip and septum pierced. Damn, that nose ring had to hurt.

"So…"

"You must think you're really cool, don't you?" she asked. Huh? "That Kenny kid has been running around like a chicken with his head cut off since he found out that you were coming today."

"No, I'm not cool. Look, you don't have to get angry with me…"

"I'm not getting angry with _you_. This is just the way I am."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have an addiction, too."

"What, pain?" she smiled, looking over my tattoos, lip ring, and tongue piercing.

"This coming from the girl with a ring in the middle of her nose? And you should know that getting your lip pierced doesn't hurt at all."

She ignored me and started flipping through her magazine. "Aren't you the guy who is the big asshole to the fans?" she asked.

I almost wanted to ask her if she had been talking to my ex girlfriend. "They caught me on a bad day," I told her honestly.

"Mr. Punk, it's time," Phyllis said, interrupting this awkward conversation.

"Alana?" I had just one more thing to say to her before being dragged off by Phyllis, the fire breathing receptionist.

"What?"

"For the record, my addiction is wrestling."

"Don't let them hear you say that. They might enroll you in this hellhole."

"Not a chance in hell."


	3. Carlito Said I was Cool

**A/N: I'm too pissed off right now. Kaitlyn told me about the new WWE Magazine, and it still hasn't arrived at my house yet. UGH! This is ridiculous. Now I probably won't get it until like Monday or something. Boo that.**

**And Cara? I was planning on updating this like tomorrow…but since you asked…And I now, as of the 13****th**** or 14****th****, have TWO CM Punk stories.**

Phyllis led me over to some big room. It looked like one of those annoying lecture halls in school. I didn't like school. Maybe that's why I'm feeling so uncomfortable. Well, that and I have a fucking old hag breathing down my neck. I think that my neck might burn to a crisp soon. I mean, she is Phyllis, the fire breathing receptionist. If she wants a better job, I think that could be good gimmick for the WWE. I mean, they'll sign anyone these days. There's rumors going around that they signed…Eminem. Yeah. Good thing those are false, right?

Okay, back to Phyllis. I think she thinks that I'm going to steal something, not that there's anything to steal. The walls are white…shocker. All it's missing are the padded walls. And the straight jackets. I'd like to stick Phyllis in one of those. Why is this insanely freaky woman staring at me? Ugh.

So the chairs are set up like stadium seating, I guess. That's odd. They must have random lectures here all the time. Maybe people should listen. I know I probably sound like Barney right now, but being drug free is the way to be. Damn, I sound like a bumper sticker or something.

"Mr. Punk, I want you to take this with the utmost sincerity," Phyllis said, taking me out of my insane asylum-Barney trance.

"Of course, Phyllis," I grinned with my cheesiest grin. Cheesiness is my specialty. Seriously, did she think that I was just going to half ass this thing? I'm talking about my life, here. I don't half ass my life. Okay, maybe I half ass _some_ things…like my behavior, but that's just healthy. A little fun and a little tasty cantaloupe never hurt anyone. At least I think that cantaloupe never hurt anyone.

"Mr. Punk, this is a very serious matter. And to be honest, I'm not entirely sure that you possess the maturity level that is required of a person to speak on a matter that is of a nature as serious as this is." Did she really just say all that in one breath? I didn't think her old mouth could do that. I thought that maybe it would either stop working, or she would dry it up with her jibber jabber. I think I should get her a water bottle so she can re-hydrate. Maybe she'll be nicer to me and give me a gold star. Are they still doing that in schools these days?

"I think I can handle this, Phyllis. After all, I've been doing this for twenty-nine years." I gave her my sweetest kiss ass smile. I'm sure you're wondering why I say "Phyllis" after nearly ever single sentence I say to the woman. It's because I find the name "Phyllis" to be hilarious. One time, I was at a Chicago Cubs game. You know Colt Cabana, right? Well, I was with him. We got there extremely early that day. We wanted to go down to the front row during batting practice and maybe catch some balls. Usually, the douche bag ushers stop you, but there was this nice old lady named…Phyllis. She let us go down there and we met some of the guys. Then the next time we went to see Phyllis and go down to the diamond, she wouldn't let us. Phyllis gave us the shaft! So that's why I think Phyllis is just funny.

Now Phyllis has me standing in front of the empty room. My, what an impeccable example I must be setting. I can stand in front of an empty room just fine, Phyllis. I think I mastered that task when I was five, kind of like Kelly Kelly using cartwheels in wrestling matches and thinking she can wrestle because she's using stuff she learned when she was five. I'm done ranting now.

The people started filling the room up. Not everyone was anxious to sit in the front row. Kenny was the first to hit up the front row, which didn't surprise me at all. I was, however, shocked when the Snow Cone Princess herself, Alana, sat a couple of seats down from him. She glared at me, crossed her legs, and blew a rather large gum bubble. That's cute.

Kenny looks like he's going to urinate himself, he's so excited. I'm cool!

Phyllis gave me some lame intro that I didn't even pay attention to, to be honest. All I heard was, "CM Punk," and then she stopped talking. I guess that's my cue to go.

How do I start one of these things? I've never really done any public speaking. Cutting promos on XBOX live while playing Halo doesn't count as public speaking, unfortunately, so I'm out of luck. I'll be unorthodox and start with a question and answer session. "Does anyone have any questions about a straight edge lifestyle?" Wow, how Mr. Rogers is that?

"What the fuck does straight edge even fucking mean?" some kid blurted out. I looked up and saw that he was sitting in the last row.

"Let me guess. College burnout for marijuana?" I guessed of his reason for being here.

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." See? I am smart!

"Why do you think you're so cool?" I looked over to where the voice had come from. Ah…

Alana.

I could have sworn we went over this already.

"Um…I'm aware that I have no idea what you're talking about."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'm sure you're _very_ aware of what I'm talking about. You must think you're so cool because you come in here all _drug free_ and we're all addicted. We were put here against our will, and then it's jackasses like you that come in here and talk down to us like we're scum under your shoes. Why don't you just fuck off?"

I am one big loser, really. I carry around a tennis ball that I named "BALL." I name most of my accessories. I'm a Cubs fan! This girl is crazy…gorgeous. No, I have Maria. No, I _don't_ have Maria.

"Thank you, Alana. I think we'll reconvene in an hour," Phyllis said, ending my lovely little lecture.

This was sufficiently awkward, I must say.

Alana's leaving. You know, I never really do this, but…

It's time to see what this girl is all about.

**A/N: I got my magazine. I'm happy now.**

**Review.**


	4. Maybe

**A/N: I told you guys that he really did have a ball named "BALL."**

Is it cold in here or is it just Alana's personality? Whew, that was mean, I guess. Good thing she can't get in my head. Then again, she is kind of weird, so maybe…

No, that's just absurd. I mean, I'm awkward, too, I guess…

Shit, Alana's a fast one. I can barely keep up with her, and I'm in the best shape of my life…I think.

"Alana, wait," I said, trying to stop her speed walk. Who speed walks?

"What do you want, Punk?" Oh my god. She used my preferred name. She has definitely won some serious bonus points in the awesomeness category. Is that too Edge and Christian of me? Oh well.

"I want to know what your deal is, Alana. Why do you have to be so rude to me? We only just met. I'm a nice guy. I don't mean any harm." I think I've stated my case very clearly.

Maybe not. She's pretty much laughing in my face. Well, she looks like she's trying not to laugh, at least. But that's still just as bad as actually laughing. It still makes me feel like a dumbass for even trying to come after her.

"Um…did I say something that you found humorous?" I had to ask. Maybe I'm a funnier guy than I thought. Sweet.

"You're something else, Punk, you really are."

"Thanks!" That _was_ a compliment, right?

"I didn't mean that as a compliment." Ooh, shot down. Damn. "But you've got some spunk. Maybe you can…"

"Maybe I can what?" Was she just about to ask me for a favor? I'll make her beg. I'll make her gravel. This is going to be amazing. I'll have her in the palm of my hand. She'll be at my mercy. I'll be a devious mastermind, plotting my revenge on her cruel, ruthless soul.

"Do you think that you could see if they'll let me out for a day? You know, we could hang out or something."

"Sure." Fuck! So much for my morals. I'm a sucker for a hot chick. At least she's not crying. I hate it when girls cry because I always have to try and make them stop. "Uh, how do I go about doing that?"

"You have to ask Phyllis," she answered. Oh no. She's got an evil smirk on her face. She knows that Phyllis isn't too fond of me. She knows…

You know, I really don't have to do this. I don't have to subject myself to Phyllis's mercy. "Yeah, I'll get right on it after this whole speech thing." What is this power that she holds over me? Gah!

"Thanks…See you in half an hour," she said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder and walking away. I hate to see her go, but I love watching her leave. Wow, I'm one cheesy bastard. I'll blame John Morrison. That's who I learned all of my pick up lines from. No wonder the only girl I could ever land was Maria.

This rehab clinic interests me for some strange reason. I walked around for a bit. Luckily, I didn't run into anyone that wanted to talk to me.

Once I turned the last corner, I was horribly, horribly wrong. "Mr. Punk, I've been looking all over for you." Yay, Phyllis! "We don't need you running around like a stampeding elephant. I want you back in the lecture hall before everyone else returns."

This lecture hall burns my eyes.

Once everyone came back in, Phyllis gave me the go ahead to continue on. "So, basically, being straight edge isn't very hard once you've got the gist of it. Yeah, there are temptations once in a while, but they're easy to turn down if you haven't had them for a while. You have no idea how many after parties I've been to and how much alcohol I've seen people consume. I guess it's just never really been my thing. And I know some guys who got so addicted to whatever they were on. They refused help and it ruined their lives, so I commend you all on making it this far. So…yeah, that's pretty much it."

I answered a couple of random questions that were asked. They were mainly along the lines of:

Where you there when Floyd Mayweather broke Big Show's nose?

Is John Cena really on steroids?

Why do you like the Cubs?

Can you get me Hulk Hogan's autograph?

Is it true that you used to be a druggie?

As you can see, most of the questions had nothing to do with the subject at hand. The only one that was at least partially relevant…Yeah, clearly that kid didn't pay attention.

So after everyone cleared out, Alana stayed for about five seconds to remind me that I needed to face Phyllis, my worst enemy. As if I could forget…

Then Alana left.

I decided to buck up and go talk to Phyllis. What harm could it do?

I strolled back up to the receptionist's desk where Phyllis had taken over again as the head bitch in charge. It was now or never.

"Um, Phyllis? I need a favor…"

"_You_ want a favor from _me_? Oh, this should be priceless. What is it?" Ooh, that stung a bit.

"I was wondering if…um…"

"Does it have to do with Alana?" She's a feisty one, that Phyllis. And she's smart, too. I don't give her enough credit.

"Um…yeah, I guess. I was wondering if I could break her out of here for like a day or something."

"I like to see you suffer, Punk. I'm not going to lie. Call me cruel, but I don't care. I will find this a horrific challenge for you, and I look forward to laughing at you while you try to accomplish it."

I'm not sure whether or not I should be scared…or if I should be laughing right now. Phyllis just turned all demonic on me.

"So, is that a yes?"

"Of course, Mr. Punk. It is a hell yes."

**A/N: So…the next chapter will be Alana and Punk hanging out. Should be good.**

**Review.**


	5. Total Eclipse of the Heart

**A/N: I was rereading this. Phyllis makes me laugh.**

_Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit lonely  
__And you're never coming 'round  
Turn around  
__Ever now and then  
__I get a little bit tired  
__Of listening to the sound of my tears  
__Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit nervous  
__That the best of all the years have gone by  
__Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit terrified  
__And then I see the look in your eyes  
__Turn around bright eyes  
__Every now and then I fall apart  
__Turn around bright eyes  
__Every now and then I fall apart  
__Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit restless  
__And I dream of something wild  
Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit helpless  
__And I'm lying like a child in your arms  
Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit angry  
__And I know I've got to get out and cry  
Turn around  
__Every now and then  
__I get a little bit terrified  
__But then I see the look in your eyes  
Turn around bright eyes  
__Every now and then I fall apart  
Turn around bright eyes  
__Every now and then I fall apart  
__And I need you now tonight  
__And I need you more than ever  
__And if you'll only hold me tight  
__We'll be holding on forever  
__And we'll only be making it right  
__'Cause we'll never be wrong together  
__We can take it to the end of the line  
__Your love is like a shadow on me all the time  
__I don't know what to do  
__But I'm always in the dark  
__We're living in a powder keg  
__And it's giving off sparks  
__I really need you tonight  
__Forever's gonna start tonight  
__Forever's gonna start tonight _

Whoops. Uh… 

Yes, I was just singing Bonnie Tyler in my car…while I was on the way to pick up Alana from Phyllis's prison of death.

I should probably take this CD out of my stereo before I get to the clinic. She already thinks I'm a strange guy. I don't need to give her another reason to make fun of me. I make fun of myself enough.

And I'm sure she'd run and tell Phyllis all about my little "Total Eclipse of the Heart" outburst. Phyllis might be a little old for that song though. She's probably been working in this place for like…ever and hasn't come out of her dungeon.

Maybe if I sign DX's theme, it will cheer the ol' Phyll-bag up. She might get the wrong idea, though.

Okay, I need to see Alana and get that mental image out of my mind _now_.

Just let me stash this CD in the glove compartment first…

"Oh, it's _you_, Mr. Punk."

"Oh, it's _me_, Mist—Ms. Phyllis." Ooh, that was a close one.

She arched her nasty painted on eyebrow at me. I think she caught it. Oops.

"Where are you taking our pride and joy today?"

Hm, haven't thought of that. Shit.

"I don't know. Wherever she wants to go, I guess."

"So you'll be content in strip clubs and smoking bars?"

Did she just say strip clubs? Ooh…

No.

"Uh…"

Phyllis totally just shunned me to the side and phoned Alana's room. They have phones in there? Might someone try to strangle themselves with the cord?

I shouldn't be thinking about that kind of stuff right now.

The way Phyllis makes it sound, I'm going to end up being strangled.

"He's here."

Damn straight, I am.

Alana got here rather quickly. Is she secretly excited to see the Punkaroonie? Ha! Victory is mine!

"You're late."

How do I explain this? Do I tell her I got stuck at a red light next to some gangsters while I was blasting Bonnie Tyler and they heard me so they decided to chase me down with their guns for fabricating their ears with actual musical genius?

"I hit traffic." Nice save.

"Have fun, Alana. Good luck, Mr. Punk," Phyllis said. Hm, maybe she doesn't hate me after all.

"Bye, Phyllis," I said with a cheesy grin and little finger wave. I don't think she found that as adorable as I thought it was. She's looking at me as if I was a dog with three heads.

"So, uh…where do you want to go?" I asked. Hey, I'm not a psychic.

"Punk, what is today?"

"Tuesday."

"So…don't you have a show tonight?"

Shit.

"Yeah, I do. I totally forgot. Did you want to come with me and hangout backstage?"

"Sure. Hey, do you have any tissues or something. I desperately need to blow my nose."

"Yeah, there's some napkins in the glove compartment."

Uh-oh.

She grabbed the CD. No…

"'Punk's Awesome Mix'? What the hell is this?" she asked.

Don't put it in…

She put it in.

And cue the piano.

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Then she started laughing to the point of tears. "You seriously listen to this junk?"

"Bonnie Tyler is _not_ junk!" I had to defend it somehow…

"You know who you remind me of?"

"What?"

"Have you ever seen _Harold and Kumar go to White Castle_?"

"That movie is amazing."

"You remind me of the 'extreme' punks. You know, they act all hardcore but they listen to eighties chick music when no one's watching."

"Bonnie Tyler _is_ extreme!"

"All you're missing is the Mountain Dew…"

"Aw man, thanks for reminding me, Alana! I need to get some before the show…"

We listened to most of the CD. She even started singing along to the random Bryan Adams I had on there, too.

And she thinks _I'm_ a loser…

"So, um…is everyone nice backstage?" she asked. Ooh, how do I answer that?

"Well, most people are. There's some bitches you have to worry about, like Kelly Kelly."

"She sounds like an idiot."

"She is."

We stopped at a gas station so I could fill up and get some fucking Mountain Dew. Then we headed over to the arena.

"You know, it's been awhile since I brought a girl to a show with me…" Wow, I sounded like a loser.

"Can't get any?"

"That hurt, Alana."

Right when we walked in the arena, all hell broke loose.

"PHIL BROOKS! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Um…

I wasn't aware this was a tri-branded show…


	6. Let's Get Tattoos

**A/N: Of course it was Maria. And unfortunately, we're probably going to be bored to death with her crappy Playboy storyline. That can only be good if Santino is involved, preferably with a microphone and ample promo time.**

**I'm willing to start a pool on how bad we all think RAW is going to be tonight. One dollar buy ins? Sound good?**

**(I wrote that A/N Monday afternoon. Oh, how I was right about RAW)**

"I…uh…" I'm not sure how to answer that. I mean, I'm pretty sure that I'm just going to work, right? I didn't know that was something I needed to think about. If anyone should be asking questions here, it's me.

"Answer my question!"

"Maria, I don't know what you're talking about." Well, I don't.

"Who is _that_?" she asked, stomping up in her ridiculously too high shoes and pointing at Alana. Now, isn't that a bit rude? I think so.

"She's--"

"_I'm_ his girlfriend, thank you very much." What? "And who are you?" I have no idea what Alana is doing, and quite frankly, I'm scared.

"I'm--"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO YOU ARE!" Yo! Who knew that Alana was a fan of The Rock? Nice! "All I know is that I am now and whoever _you_ are is old and gross, so step, whore."

Maria let out some sort of disgusted squeal-slash-grunt and went away. Seriously, why is she here? Probably promoting that stupid "Bunnymania" thing. How lame.

"Alana, you didn't have to do that…"

"Yes. Yes I did. I'm not going to let some whore ruin my one day out of the clinic. Who was she, by the way?" she asked as we started walking.

"Maria. She's my ex-girlfriend."

Alana stopped walking, but I didn't notice at first. When I did notice, I turned around and just looked at her. I had no idea what the hell she was doing. She was looking at me as if I was crazy, though. That may be true, but I already knew that.

"_You_ went out with _that_?"

"Yeah. I did go out with _that_."

"Were you drunk or on drugs or something?"

Okay, now that is just a ridiculous question! I held up my knuckles John Cena Word Life style, which I will _never_ do again, and showed her that I had "DRUG FREE" tattooed on them. "Clearly, Alana, I have never been on drugs, nor do I ever intend to be."

I didn't think that was funny, but Alana did. Whatever. "Introduce me to some people, sir."

"Are you sure? I mean, after you met Maria…"

"What the hell am I supposed to do while you're out in the ring? Surely you don't expect me to sit by myself. I could always go and find Maria. She seemed like a nice girl."

Ooh, Alana is evil. Cunning, but evil.

"No, that's quite alright. Uh…Oh! Victoria!" Thank god she was just walking around. She's a lifesaver.

"What's up, Punk?"

"This is Alana. Can she chill with you while I have my match? I forgot that I'm first."

"Yeah, that's cool."

"Alright. Sweet. I'll see you two ladies later."

* * *

Okay, so I just had my ass handed to me my John Morrison and The Miz in a two on one handicap match. Well, that's pretty much the only way that The Miz can win a damn match, so more power to him.

"Dude, you totally got your ass kicked." I didn't want to hear that from her. I think she's making fun of me.

"Thanks, Alana. Did you meet anyone else?"

"Uh, that Edge guy."

…

That's not good.

"You met Edge?"

"Yeah, I met Edge."

Great! Just great! I have no chance in hell now. She met the one dude here that like every single chick falls for. Have the whores that Batista brings here end up leaving him before the night is over because they'd rather be with Edge. This is blasphemy!

"Did you like him?"

"Hm, why are you so concerned, Punk?"

Ooh, think fast.

"Well, Edge is a dangerous man to fall for, Alana. I'm just looking out for the best interests of my newest friend, if that's alright with you."

She raised her eyebrow at me. Holy crap, I think I'm caught. I'm a goner. She's figured me out. Damnit, I'm too obvious.

"Let's go get tattoos."

What?

"What?"

"I'm just kidding, dude. Are you done for tonight?" Is she so eager to get out of here? Am I that boring?

"Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Let's go somewhere. Find some people and let's go have some fun."

"Okay, but we'll have to chill for a bit. Everyone's still gotta stay for their SmackDown tapings."

"Find some damn people!"

"Okay." Hm, who should we bring. Oh, look. There's Edge. "Hey, Edge, do you want to hang out with us after the show?"

"Sure, dude."

Wait a darn minute…Didn't I just go on an anti-Edge rant about how I want him as far away from Alana as possible? But I still invited him to hang out with her?

Wow, I'm a dumbass.

**A/N: I hate John Cena. More than ever. Seriously. If you saw RAW, you know why.**

**THANK GOD FOR JARED FOGLE AND SANTINO MARELLA!**

**That is all.**

**Review.**


	7. Wake Up

**A/N: So when Bob came out, I was pissed. No Cody. But then Khali came out, and all was right with the world. I never laughed so hard in my life. That was funnier than the Carlito Wrestlemania commercial. That was better than Santino stealing King's sandwich. I cried. I rolled on the floor. I sounded like an evil maniacal scientist. It was great. But then Cena tainted the only Cody moment I had. God damn. Yet another thing John Cena has ruined.**

Wow. That was seriously the strangest time I've ever had sitting through a SmackDown taping, and I've sat through some pretty entertaining tapings. Like there was that one time when me and John Morrison…

I shouldn't repeat that. We might get fired if I even mutter that.

Okay, let's just say that it had to do with Hornswoggle, a pack of pre-shredded mozzarella cheese, a quarter, and John Morrison's abs.

Does that make me sound gay?

Maybe if I wasn't going to wear pants, then it would be gay.

Okay, I'm done talking now. I don't want creative to have a field day and try to turn Morrison and I into the modern day Billy and Chuck.

I don't think that Colt Cabana would ever let me live that down.

Alana seemed to enjoy sitting backstage with everyone. Victoria came and hung out with us since she got voted off of that totally rigged Diva contest. We all know that Michelle is going to win. It's no surprise.

What a waste of air time.

After the taping was finally over, Edge and Victoria met us at a club.

Yes, CM Punk was in a club.

I do _not_ dance. It's a good thing that I don't drink. I can't even imagine me dancing while drunk. I'm sure I'd kill a blue haired alcoholic lady in the process. I can't even do the Macarena. Brazilian jujitsu totally ruined all rhythmic coordination. I'm lucky if I can even clap my hands along with a song.

Okay, maybe I over exaggerated that last part a bit. I do a lovely cabbage patch, and Shelton Benjamin tried teaching me the two step once. Yeah, that turned out great.

"Alana, do you want anything to drink?"

"Do you seriously think that you should be asking the girl that's in _rehab_ if she'd like a drink?" Ooh, didn't think of that one.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking…Is that even what you are in rehab for?"

She smiled at me and ordered a ginger ale. "No."

I shrugged and just said, "Cool." It's not my place to ask. I know she's got a sour side, and I'm not about to set that off. We're going to have a good time if it kills me.

And knowing Edge, it probably will.

* * *

How the fuck did I end up here?

No, I did not drink. It wasn't like I couldn't remember because I was drunk.

I actually fell asleep at the bar of the club. Good thing Batista wasn't there. I might have been kidnapped and…I don't want to think about that.

But hey, can you really blame me for falling asleep? Clubs aren't really my scene, and I was tired! I worked a damn hard match.

But seriously, how did I get here? I just woke up in the bed of my hotel room. That's a good sign.

But Alana's lying next to me, and that is _not_ a good sign.

Uh-oh.

"Alana! Wake up!" I tried shaking her awake, but it didn't work.

Oh no. I wasn't awake to supervise. I left her in a club with alcohol. Oh no.

Wait, she said she wasn't addicted to alcohol. Phew.

Oh no.

I LEFT HER ALONE WITH EDGE!

"Oh fuck," I sighed. Then Alana woke up. "How is it possible that you didn't wake up when I shook you, but you woke up when I whispered?"

"I was awake when you shook me. I'm just a good actress," she said. Uh, is she _not_ fazed that we just woke up like this? Granted, we're both still fully clothed from the night before, but I've heard stranger stories.

"So you're not really worried about just waking up like this? What the hell?" I was freaking out like a fat chick that didn't get asked to prom. Wow, I've become extremely pathetic.

She looked at me as if she was trying to hold in a _really_ big laugh. Too late. She let it out.

"What's so funny? I don't find this to be extremely humorous, Alana."

"Did you know that you are a _very_ heavy sleeper? I could have had my way with you, but I thought you were rather cute while you were sleeping," she joked.

"That's fantastic, but how did I end up like this?"

"Well, you fell asleep while you were at the bar. We tried waking you up, but we thought you just like passed out for real. Edge checked to see if you were still breathing, but then you started moaning something about John Morrison. It was kind of strange. So he and Victoria carried you to the car and I drove you back here. I followed them back here and we had to sneak you in from one of the side doors. We didn't want the head desk getting suspicious. Luckily, it was late enough where no people were still up and about. I fished your room key out of your pocket and they carried you up here. And here we are."

"But don't you need to get back to the clinic?"

"Probably, but we should probably wait until a bit later. Maybe Phyllis will be a bit _less_ upset about this if we get back at a more reasonable time."

"Why, what time is it?" I asked, and she shrugged. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that it was nine in the morning. "What time are you guys open for visitors? That's probably when I should bring you back."

"Uh, I think one."

"We'll wait until then."

"Punk?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." She rolled over and put her arm around me. I think she was trying to hug me.

Wow, I have a hot chick in bed with me, and she's hugging me.

But I'm not taking advantage of it. I don't want her to go all Godzilla on me.

**A/N: For once, I am glad I watched ECW.**

**Anyone who saw it knows why.**

**Review.**


	8. Sneak Attack

**A/N: YAY NO CENA IN THE TITLE MATCH AT ONE NIGHT STAND! GO JBL! CENA'S GOING TO BLEED LIKE THE BITCH HE IS!**

**I'm done now.**

Operation "Sneak Alana in the Center and Avoid Phyllis the Fire Breathing Receptionist at all Costs" is in full effect. How are we going to do this?

I have no fucking idea.

I'm not the sneaky one! Alana is the one that got my tired ass back to the hotel all on her own without me noticing. If anyone is going to plan this, Alana has to.

"So, Alana, what's your master plan to get you back into Phyllis's prison of death?" I asked as we checked out of the hotel. It was approximately noon, which gave us an hour to get to the clinic and get Alana in, preferably without Phyllis freaking out on me and banning me from seeing Alana.

"I'm not planning anything at all, Punkaroo. This is allllll on you. You were the one that wanted to take me out, so _you're_ the one that's going to have to sneak me back in," Alana said, teasing me.

"I hate being toyed with," I said.

"Hm, your nipple rings sure don't say that about you."

Why does everyone make fun of the nip rings?

"Come on. We've got a drive to make," I said. Looks like I really do have to take the reigns on this one.

* * *

It was 12:45 when we pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. The only reason it took so long was because we had to stop for gas and then Alana wanted to feed the ducks bread at the park. I like feeding ducks. I started quacking at them until a giant goose came and chased me away.

Don't laugh. That goose was fucking scary, man. It waddled like Batista and sounded like Jericho squealing in pain. Yeah, I told you it was creepy.

"Okay, so this is what we're going to do," Alana said as I turned off the ignition.

Er, am I missing something here?

"I thought that I had to come up with the plan…" I sighed.

She started laughing at me. Thanks, Alana. You really know how to make a guy feel special. "Sorry, Punk, but your idea of a plan would involve dressing up in penguin suits and giving Phyllis a peace offering of Pepsi."

HOW DID SHE KNOW?!

"Are you psychic?" I asked. Come on, that _was_ rather creepy. How did she know about my secret love of penguins? I mean, sure, the Pepsi thing is obvious. You don't get something tattooed on you unless you really love it, and I love me some ice cold Pepsi.

"Yes. I am. Now here's the plan. You're going to say you're visiting Kenny and she should let you in. Actually, I think Phyllis is working the later shift today. She shouldn't be in until two. Diane should be working the front desk. So you'll say you're visiting Kenny and she'll let you in. Then you run to the back and let me in through that door. I'll sneak around there once you go in. Deal?"

I'm not smart enough for this.

"Okay," I shrugged. What else could I do?

* * *

"Hello, how are you today?" a woman who I assumed was Diane asked. Wow, what a step up from Phyllis. She was probably in her early twenties and seemed like a nice woman. She was smiling and everything. I bet Phyllis is too old to smile.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking. I'm here to see Kenny," I said, just according to plan.

"Oh, go right ahead," Diane said. Nice.

I walked down the hallway like everything was normal but took a turn down a different hallway. I saw Alana through the glass doors. I hope to god that there's no alarm on these things…

Phew, that was good. She walked in the building and we went back to her room.

"Thanks," she said, giving me a hug. "I had a great time."

"Me too," I said, not wanting to let go of her, but I had to. "I should be going…"

"Yeah. Do that."

* * *

"MR. PUNK WHERE IS ALANA?"

Oh shit. I'd notice that howl from anywhere.

Phyllis has come to work early.

"She's in her room, Phyllis. Where else would she be?"

"I don't know, but the third shift receptionist left a note and said that Alana never returned here. What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her. She's in her room."

"Let's take a little walk, Mr. Punk."

I wanted to say to Phyllis that if we were taking a walk, I'd need to get her a leash, but I refrained from doing so. She might burn me to a crisp with her fire breathing abilities.

We walked down the hallway to Alana's room. Just like I knew she would be, Alana was lounging on her bed. "What's up, Phyllis?" she said, and I had to stifle a giggle.

Yes, I giggle.

"What are you doing here?" Phyllis asked in shock.

Okay, a giggle now slipped out.

"I live here, Phyllis. What do you think?"

"You…" she said, turning to me, and then leaving.

"Good work," I said. "But now, we talk."

**A/N: Next chapter is the last one.**


	9. Wrong Side

**A/N: Holy fuck, I suck at life for not updating this. I was going to update a bunch of stuff, but then I remembered that this only had one more chapter to go, so I was like "fuck it." Let's do the damn thing, then. Let's see if I can still channel my inner CM Punk (even though Mountain Dew is better than Pepsi and I don't really like Punk that much).**

Damn her. When I requested that we talk, she smirked at me all adorable like. Gah, I hate it when girls do that! She stepped over to the door and closed it. My guess is that she would have locked it as well, but the doors didn't have locks on them.

…Or maybe I just wish she would lock the door.

Forcing my prepubescent fantasies out of my head, I—Wait, prepubescent? I'm twenty-nine years old! I'm pretty sure that I went through puberty a long time ago.

Anyways, where was I?

Oh, right. Alana. The hot chick I'm currently standing in a room with…alone.

Heh.

"So, Punk, what do you want to talk about?"

Uh, what did I want to talk about?

Oh, right.

"Well, I was kind of thinking…"

"Really, you _think_?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at me. I'm glad she started to laugh. I thought she was serious. "Come on, man, I always thought that I was the brains of the operation."

"Do you always have to be so mean to me?" I whined, not unlike a six year old girl. Yeah, not even a boy; a _girl_. Wow, this was getting sad. I think all my tattoos are just covering my poor, pathetic, six year old girl soul.

"I'm mean to people that I like," she revealed. That _almost_ made me feel better. _Almost_.

"What about Phyllis? You're mean to Phyllis. Do you mean to tell me that you _like_ the fire-breathing receptionist?" How can anyone like her? She's old and ancient. Yes, I realize those two descriptive words mean almost the same thing, but you get my point. She's crude, lewd, and I certainly hope she's not tattooed.

I've been hanging out with Edge too much.

Alana cracked a small smile. "I have my exceptions. So what was it that you were saying?"

"Well, I was saying that…Wait, you like me?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you _like_ me, like me? Or just like me. Like, 'hey, you're cool,' like me?" Wow, do I sound like a teenage girl or what?

"Does it matter? You wouldn't date me, anyways."

"What makes you say that?" I was seriously taken aback. Did she think I was crazy or absurd? Well, I _am_ both of those things, but still.

"Hello? Do you see where I am? Do you know why I'm here? It's everything that you're against," she explained. "I thought you despised everything that has to do with drugs."

"I, too, have my exceptions, Alana," I said, giving her eyebrow arching a run for its money, except that I don't think I did it very well.

"But what if I don't get out of it? What if I can't be saved, Punk?"

"I am here, Alana. I can help you. I can get you out of this. Besides, opposites attract," I grinned, trying to seem as boyish as possible.

"You can?"

"Yeah. And I'll prove it to you."

"How?"

Oh, I'm a sneaky one…

"Your lip ring is on the wrong side," I shrugged.

"What? What makes you say that? Punk, you're suck a j—"

She never got to finish. I never did find out if she was going to call me a jerk or a jackass, or some other obscene word that started with the letter 'J.' Instead of listening to her insult me more than she ever has, and may I say, she does it quite adorably, I just kissed her.

As I predicted, our opposing lip rings clashed together in a rather painful way.

"Ow…" she said after we broke apart.

I had to laugh at that one. "Told you."

**xx.fin.xx**


End file.
